Tag Archives: Fantasy Baseball

It’s been over a week since the Major League Baseball season came to an end, and yet, I still find it relevant, nay, essential that we all look at the dominance of my fantasy baseball team. Here, feast your eyes on this:

I don’t want to dwell on this for too long, because I’m not here to gloat. I just think it’s important for people to know that such dominance is possible. This is an objective service I’m providing here, one of instilling hope, awe, wonder. Were things to have gone differently, I would be treating the above performance from another player with equal reverence. This is not about me, Kyle Davis, Incontrovertible and Absolute Fantasy Baseball Champion. This is about science, art. This exercise is pure. This is not grandstanding.

And so who to thank? There are so many, but I will attempt to be brief. Matt Holliday, Michael Bourn, Chase Headley, of course. Kevin Youkillis, for those two or three weeks after you got traded to the Chicago White Sox, when you completely mashed after I picked you up off the waiver wire. Adam Wainwright, for making good on your peripheral statistics after joining my team. Pablo Sandoval, for not being productive much at all after getting traded away for Adam Wainwright. The sad sack who agreed to said trade. Prince Fielder, for hitting better than Justin Upton following a very early season swap. The same exact sad sack for agreeing to this trade as well. Max Scherzer, the Avant-Garde Sportsman, for having a disappointing start to the season, thus allowing me to add you to my team for literally nothing, after which you performed at an elite level. A very elite level. With so many strikeouts. So many.

I’d like to thank Mike Trout and I don’t believe I need to say anything more. Words of thanks would be insulting to his brilliance. My gratitude can not be expressed with pitiful language. You deserve better, Mike Trout. Better than me or anyone else can provide for you.

I’m trying to figure out why Mat Latos is trying to ruin my life. The only logical explanation is that he’s somehow tracked me down on the internet, maybe on Twitter, or through this blog, or by way of some cosmically cursed Google search—somehow, someway, he’s tracked me down on the internet and he’s decided that he does not care for me. Does not care for me one bit. This all must have happened some time right before the season started—that sweet spot of time post fantasy baseball draft and pre Opening Day. Yes, Mat Latos found me on the internet, took a real disliking to me, saw that I had drafted him in the ninth round to be my number two starter, and Mat Latos decided to sabotage my fucking life. A 5.97 ERA, a 1.57 WHIP, 18 K’s and 10 walks in 28 innings pitched. Mat Latos is laughing at me right now. He’s laughing at the damage he’s done to my fantasy team and he’s laughing at the damage he’s done to my personal and professional existence. He knows it’s going to take me months to remove the filth he’s smeared all over my pitching ratios, he knows it’s going to take me months to repair the personal relationships I’ve soured after my tailspin into aggressive and alienating and violent depression. He knows C.J. Wilson is not the answer. And so he sits there, Mat Latos, a self-appointed foil to my success and happiness, smirking, smug and content with that stupid face of his. The face of an overfed and over indulged baby. The face of oblivious entitlement. The face of an Escalade owner. The face of the enemy. He sits there, he watches as my life gets torn to shreds, he watches as I fall to the ground and pick up the disparate strands, as I run them through my fingers and attempt in vain to piece them back together, as they fold and break and wind into knots, and he smiles. He smiles wide. He smiles pure.

I went into last night’s Fantasy Baseball Draft with a pretty good plan and grasp of what I wanted to do. I was slotted in the 11th spot of a 12 team league. I would have rather been in the middle of the draft, or even the start. The end of the order did not sit well with me. I improvised and made it work, though, because I’m hell of good at fake baseball. I’d give my overall draft performance an 8/10 but I feel like a 9 was well within my grasp. Pretty standard roto league with OBP and QS added for fun but who cares. Just about all of these players were selected one measly pick before mine. The humanity!

Round One: Joey Votto

I would have liked to select him with the 11th overall pick. I wasn’t too excited to leave the first two rounds without a first baseman but opted for Justin Upton instead of Prince Fielder. By doing this, and then taking Hanley Ramirez on the way back, I decided I would make a move for Eric Hosmer at the start of the 6th round. More on that very soon!

Round Five: Eric Hosmer

As the fifth round started I was feeling pretty awesome about my plan. My pet picks, Michael Bourn and Hosmer looked primed for availability when my turns came around and someone was going to have to reach to make an asshole out of me. Someone reached on Hosmer and sent my entire life into a goddamn tailspin. I got Bourn, but then opted for Brian McCann to start the sixth round. I don’t think I’ve ever taken a catcher that early ever and it felt very weird. I’m usually opposed to this kind of thing but McCann struck my as undervalued in Yahoo’s rankings and oh god Hosmer was gone.

Round Seven: Rickie Weeks

This one fucking hurt. I’d been taking Weeks in a ton of mock drafts and feeling awesome about his value at the end of the seventh/start of the eighth round. Risky, but worth it, I figured. He was selected one pick before mine and then I panicked and took Howie Fucking Kendrick. At the time, I immediately regretted it and wished I had waited 3 or 4 more rounds to snag Ackley instead. Then Ackley went really early and I felt a bit better. But still, Kendrick’s OBP is so dumb. Albert better teach him how to take a walk and then drive him in a lot of times.

Round Nine: David Ortiz

This one hurt about the same as the Weeks pick but I was way better prepared this time. I knew my buddy loved Ortiz and that there was a large probability of me missing out on him. He would have fit perfectly on my team, though, goddammit. I ended up with Ichiro in my UTIL spot instead and as a result my team is heavy on steals and light on power. This is something I will eventually rectify with my genius mastery of the art of the fantasy baseball trade. This marks the third time my plans had been foiled by the same drafted exactly one pick ahead of my. Needless to say, I like my buddy Ryan’s team quite a bit. Even if he is a total dick.

Round Thirteen: Shaun Marcum

He’s a weirdo with a hurt arm but I still like him. I ended up with Jordan Zimmermann instead, who I also like, so this is pretty unimportant. Why are you reading this unimportant section of the blog post?

Round Fifteen: Frank Francisco

I have a weird affinity for Franky Fran. I never pay for saves and as such, he ends up on my teams a lot either by late draft pick or waiver claim or both. Dude can strike fools out. I took Grant Balfour instead and who cares we’re talking about stupid closers.

Some Other Round: Johan Santana

I figured what the heck and was going to pick Johan just for the hell of it but then someone else did.

I know that nobody cares about your fantasy team. Or is it my fantasy team? This is going to be a confusing post. Watch how confusing I’m going to make it. I know that nobody cares about your fantasy team or my fantasy team, but what about a fantasy team that doesn’t even exist? What about a practice fantasy team? What about a fantasy team that only existed for a few fleeting moments and for the sole purpose of preparation for the drafting of a real fantasy team? Real as in fake. Real as in permanent. Permanent as in it will only last for one full baseball season. Does nobody still not care about my fantasy team if it was a mock drafted team? What if it was my first mock drafted fantasy team of the season? Nobody still doesn’t care? Nobody is hard to please. Well, not really, because it’s totally reasonable to not care about a real (fake) or mock fantasy baseball team. Nobody can’t be blamed for not caring about this shit. Let’s move on before I jump out of a window.

I participated in my first mock draft of the season recently. It was an important moment for me, as it marks the somewhat official start to the fantasy baseball season and many months of me flirting with divorce from my wife. Below, I’ve included an image of that team, because I find it hilarious. If you follow baseball and fantasy baseball, you might find it hilarious as well. I don’t know, maybe I’m just weird. Probably. I mean, have you read this fucking post? You have. Haha, joke’s on you.

The team is full of previously hurt and/or elite players who sucked last season. That’s why it’s maybe funny. I might even be wrong about that assessment (both the roster and that it’s potentially funny), but it sure felt that way while the draft was happening in real time, so let’s just stick with it, because I’ve already written like 300 nonsense words and I’m committed at this point. This was a wussy ten team mock, because I wanted to ease into this monster. Beachy was an accidental auto-pick and I left the draft after the 17th round, but I can’t believe Edwin Jackson fell that far. Volquez as the last pick is wildly appropriate.